Help Is On The Way
by siriuslyxinxharmony
Summary: Harry gets beaten by Dudley and collapses on the front lawn, where he is found by the Grangers. It is decided that he will stay with the Grangers until term starts ... Harry and Hermione's relationship grows...will some different feelings get in the way?
1. Chapter 1

**Okay . . . here is a little idea that sprung to my mind in a dream (lol?) and I thought I would write it down. This is a couple weeks after his 4****th**** year, so when he was having nightmares about the graveyard and such. Also, I'm pretending that he met Tonks in 4****th**** year, so he knows her well now.**

Help is on the Way

_Chapter 1_

Dudley's dog, Killer, was trained to attack Harry whenever he laid his eyes on him. Harry, 15, already had numerous dog bites and some were even infected; out running a bulldog was harder than it was put out to be. At first he tried to coax the dog with treats, but Dudley had trained it too well (which surprised Harry quite a lot, since Dudley was empty headed); there was not even a chance of duping the dog to forget its master's orders and there was no use trying. The only way he could prevent himself from being bitten was hiding in his room, but that was faulty, because Aunt Petunia yelled for him to come to every meal.

When it happened, it was dinner time and Harry had not seen Killer under the table, so he was acting freer than he would otherwise. He ate his small portion of withering salad as quickly as possible and the pork chop that followed at the same speed. He was just getting up from the table when he heard a low growl. From experience he knew that it was time to start running, but he had suffered an extremely painful bite on his foot that slowed him down; maybe the dog was ordered to bite him in the legs . . . slowing him down was easier than chasing him for sure.

Harry limped as fast as he could to his room, but it was no use. The dog took advantage of his slowness and leapt up, biting his nose. Immediately he was bleeding so ferociously that he could not see, but the dog was chewing on his leg again . . . with the other foot and some sort of finesse he did not know he had, he aimed a kick at the dog. Killer fell without a second difference.

Too much in pain to be pleased, he started limping back to his room to treat his wounds the best he could, with some spello-tape. He barely rounded the corner when an earsplitting yell echoed through the whole number 4.

"HE KILLED KILLER!" shouted Dudley furiously, and it startled Harry that he sounded choked up.

He spun around and faced Dudley. "YOU SHOULD HAVE STOPPED TELLING THE LITTLE BEAST TO ATTACK ME! AND HE'S KNOCKED OUT, NOT DEAD!"

But Dudley would hear nothing than the first part. Catching Harry off guard, he punched him hard in the side of the head. Everything went blank for a minute, but there was no time to regain his focus. Dudley hit his eye, his head again, his ribs (he thought he heard a crunch), and everywhere of Harry he could. Harry would have preferred to be unconscious, but he still felt each blow all the same.

Dudley left when he got bored, when Harry couldn't make a sound of pain anymore because of the growing pain in his ribs. His breathing was uneven because each time he would breathe fully the pain in his ribs became unbearable. He wanted to get out of the house but had no energy left for his trunk, or sadly, for Hedwig. But then he thought of the things they could do to her and decided he would have to at least let her fly. So he limped back into his room and set her free out the window, than inched towards the door and out.

He knew he was beginning to lose unconsciousness, because everything switched in and out of focus and sometimes black would remain all he could see for a while. He walked out the door and was preparing himself for the steps when he felt a push, and he toppled down them, hitting his head on the concrete below. He felt one last blow to his ribcage before everything went black.

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"Dad, stop the car!" yelled Hermione. "There is a dead body on that lawn!" she said.

Evan leaned out the window for a better look. Sure enough, there was a body lying there, definitely unconscious but he didn't think that he was dead. There was a breathing pattern, however scattered it was.

He looked to his wife. "We should take him to the hospital," he said.

She looked for a moment that she was about to decline, but peeked at the body. After a moment's pause she said, "Okay."

The Grangers all stepped out of the van and walked towards the body. Hermione thought for a split second that it was someone she knew, but then decided it couldn't be . . . he couldn't be here . . . no way . . . but . . .

"Harry?" she said as she inched forward and leaned by his side. "No!" she screamed. The face was so distorted with purple and blood it was hardly recognizable, but she could tell it was her best friend . . . he was dead . . . no . . . Tears were bursting out of her eyes and panic filled her lungs. Harry couldn't be dead . . . no . . . but she felt his pulse, and there was a heartbeat. A desire to help strongly overtook the terror and she glanced at her dad. "Help him!" she said hysterically, "put him in the van! I know who this is!"

Evan looked at his hysterical daughter to the young boy about her age on the ground and nodded. Very gingerly he leaned down and scooped the teenager off the grass. It was frightening to see how little he breathed. He put the boy into the back of the van and turned to his wife, who was just climbing back into the car.

"Should we take him to the hospital?" he asked. For some reason, he felt he would get quite a lot of questions he would not know how to answer, and that would probably be suspicious to the doctors and nurses.

"We can't," intervened Hermione, "he has to stay with his Aunt and Uncle for . . . _magical _reasons . . . and the muggle, I mean, non-magical people will take him away from them. We'll just have to treat him ourselves," she added uncertainly, with a glance at her best friend. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked at him and she was no longer uncertain. "We need to treat him ourselves."

Evan and Jean exchanged looks, and then nodded. Evan started the car back up and they drove for a while. Hermione kept feeling Harry's pulse, to make sure she would not lose him.

Evan grabbed Harry as gingerly as he had done before, and carried him into the sitting room and down the hallway to the guest room, where he placed Harry on the bed that was in the corner of the room. Jean and Hermione were at his side. Hermione took off his glasses and placed them on the table next to the bed.

"He looks like he was in some kind of fight," said Evan as he started to remove Harry's shirt, looking for further injuries. Everyone gasped when it was off. There were bites all over his torso and his ribs were obviously cracked; there was purple around them and he was so underfed that you could actually see them sticking out at the wrong angles.

"These bites will need to be treated immediately. Jean, if you will get the cream, please . . . Hermione, get a wet cloth so we can clean him up, please . . ."

They returned with the supplies needed only seconds later, and Evan told them to smear the cream on the bites and clean them up so he could bandage them.

"Oh Harry," mumbled Hermione as she dabbed around his face, removing the blood. One of his eyes was so swollen there was no chance of him seeing out of it, and his nose resembled Dumbledore's, except it was purple, yellow, and bloody. Once his face was finished, she moved to his chest and did the same thing there.

Evan entered the room and started bandaging the bites first, and when he did so Harry's face turned paler than it was before. But when he tried to do the bite by his ribs, his eyebrows shot up and he groaned.

"I know, I know," said Evan, and he continued to bandage him. "Hermione, step out so I can do his legs."

"No! He's my best friend dad, nothing more . . ."

He argued with her, but Jean finally shut the two of them up and allowed Hermione to stay. Evan removed his torn jeans delicately and threw them to the corner of the room. There was a very nasty bite around his ankle andh wen he dabbed it, trying to clean it, he groaned loudly and whimpered.

"It's infected," said Jean, "let me do it . . ."

Evan gave her the cloth and she started tending to the wound, finally bandaging it and doing the rest. She got him pajamas and Evan dressed him in them and put him under the blankets. They took one final look at him before they left the room. Hermione sat on the edge of the bed. It was surreal, how they had found him like this . . . they had passed that house so many times on the way home before and she never knew that was where he was abused. She started stroking his hair and he groaned again. On further inspection, she saw that someone had obviously given him a few blows to the head. A single tear streamed down her face.

She got up from the bed and went to go get icepacks. She placed one between his eye and nose, so it would help both; she placed two more on the lumps on his head and one on his ribs.

There was silence before Harry started stirring, mumbling in his sleep. At first it was completely undistinguishable, but then she could make out things like, "Cedric . . . no . . . don't killem, he didn't do anything . . . stop . . ." She grabbed his wrist gently and cried silently. He was obviously reliving the end of last term again, when Voldemort had returned.

At that moment, Lupin, Tonks, Mrs. Weasley, a black dog, Ron, and Ginny entered. There were many gasps. The black dog immediately checked that the curtains were closed all the way, and then transformed into Sirius. He sat next to Hermione and stared at Harry.

"Jesus," he mumbled. "What happened to him?"

Hermione gave him a meaningful look and he nodded at once. Remus and Tonks stood beside each other next to the bed, looking at Harry with a mixture of sadness and incredulity. Mrs. Weasley put a hand on his cheek and cried silently, whereas Ron and Ginny motioned for Hermione to come over to them.

"Yeah?" she asked as she entered their side.

"His aunt, uncle, and cousin did this, then?" asked Ron with disgust.

"And some kind of animal . . ."

"What are his injuries?" asked Ginny.

"Well, what you can see, and then he's got broken ribs . . . and just _so _many bites . . ."

Ron shook his head. "Bloody bastards . . ."

They all looked as Harry began to fidget feebly, and he was murmuring more things about the graveyard. "Mum . . . don't let him kill me, Mum, you've got to help me . . . he wants to _kill _me dad, please . . . please . . ."

Unexpectedly he reached out and grasped Tonks's wrist, and although his eyes were closed he had an expression of utter panic. Tonks stared down at him sadly, though she was obviously a bit alarmed. "Don't kill Cedric, _please_ . . ." he mumbled to her.

"Enough of this," said Sirius, and he began to gently shake Harry awake. His eyes opened feebly and he could barely see, because his broken nose was making causing his eyes to water so much everything was a blur. "_Episkey_," said Sirius, and Harry looked blearily from Sirius to Mrs. Weasley, and because he didn't have his glasses, they were still just a blur.

"Mum?" he asked Mrs. Weasley.

Mrs. Weasley reached out and touched his face. "I'm not your mum, Harry . . ."

"Here," said Lupin, and he gave the glasses to Harry, who put them on with shaking hands.

"Oh . . . m' sorry Mrs. Weasle . . ." His eyes began to close again, but Hermione prodded him to keep him awake.

"He's got to stay awake," Hermione mumbled, "he could fall into a coma if he doesn't."

Everyone exchanged glances; they weren't aware of that because it was most likely muggle knowledge, therefore in a muggle book.

"Can someone . . . fix m' ribs . . ." he murmured, and Tonks said, "I can!"

Remus stopped her with a hand. "I'll do it," he said to a crestfallen Tonks. "_Brackium Emendo,"_ he said, and a jet of light shot from his wand onto Harry's ribs.

"How is that?" asked Mrs. Weasley.

"Much better, thanks," said Harry feebly. He smiled, but it came out as more of a grimace.

"Can you tell us what happened, Harry?" Lupin asked.

Harry looked at Lupin sadly; he closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them, breathing, "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Don't feel sorry for me, then," said Harry, and he tried to prop himself up higher, but his hands shook so much it was impossible. "My cousin Dudley has a dog . . . and he trained it to . . . bite me all the time, but it's okay," he added, seeing their looks of repulsion, ". . . the dog bit my nose and started to reopen the bite on my leg, but I kicked it . . . Dudley came in . . ."

They all waited for him to continue, but he didn't. "And then?" asked Ron.

"He . . . he . . . he punched me, and I was barely conscious enough to fight back, 'cause he punched me in the head, see . . . he just beat me for a while, and I went outside, and then someone pushed me down the stairs and . . . kicked me . . . and I don't know what happened after that."

"After that I saw a body lying on the grass in front of a house, and I asked my dad to stop the car . . . I walked forward to Harry and saw that it was him, and I told my parents to take him home instead of the hospital, because they would have to take him away from his aunt and uncles' . . . and we treated his wounds," said Hermione.

"He cannot go back to those Muggles," said Sirius angrily.

"Dumbledore explained that he has too . . . for his own safety."

"Do you _really _think he is safe there, Molly? Is _this _safe to you?" he gestured towards Harry.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys. A lot of people added this story to their story alerts and favorite stories, and thank you so much for that! But I hardly got any reviews for how many people read it! I'm not usually the one to complain, as I love writing and it's not about reviews, but it is a little disappointing because your opinions are like drugs to me. So if you could review (like it or hate it, please no flames!) I would super-duper appreciate it.**

Help Is On the Way

_Chapter 2_

"Can I sleep now?" asked Harry in the feeble voice he had adopted after the injuries. His head still ached badly.

Hermione eyed him sadly. "I know you're tired, but do you want to fall into a coma?"

"Hermione, a coma would be some-what of a relief to me right now," he said quietly.

Tears welled up in Hermione's eyes before she could stop them, and she quickly hid her face from Harry's view. Unfortunately he noticed, though, and tried to repair his last words; nothing could take them back, though, and they brought horrible thoughts to mind. What else did those nasty people do to him to make him welcome a coma thankfully? If she could go back there and blast them and the dog to smithereens, she'd do it in a heartbeat. Here he was, in pain, just because Dumbledore had to be technical and give him to the people who were least likely care for him.

"I didn't mean it," he said hastily. His head continued to ache horribly, though he didn't show it.

She waved him off. He obviously did mean it, because he had said it, but she didn't feel that it was a good time to make him feel worse. Putting on her best smile, she said, "It's okay."

He seemed to relax a little, and he smiled the first real smile he had since they arrived.

"What is your name?" she asked him for the hundredth time, ensuring that if he did fall asleep, he wouldn't fall into a coma. You always had to make sure that people with concussions remembered things like that; she'd learned about it in a medical book quite a long time ago. Forgetfulness was a good sign of brain injury, too. Perhaps keeping him awake was paranoia, but she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she had caused him a coma.

"Harry Potter," he mumbled, exasperated.

"What school do you go to?" asked Hermione.

"Hogwarts. The headmaster is Albus Dumbledore and he has a really long beard," he chuckled, but stopped immediately, grimacing.

Hermione looked at him sympathetically, and then continued, "What is the creature you killed in your second year?"

"A basilisk," he replied.

"Alright, last question: What are the five principals of Gamp's Law to Elemental Transfiguration?"

"I can't remember," he said wearily, wiping his uninjured eye with his hand.

Harry saw Hermione studying him in horror and said hastily, "I couldn't have answered that question if I didn't have a concussion."

She nodded warily, still glancing at him as if she expected him to fall into a coma at any second. Harry's eyes started to droop once more and his breathing became slower; Hermione, this time, did not insist on keeping him awake, but let him sleep, something that she knew he had needed for a long time. She wondered how long it had been since he had had a good night's rest, without nightmares. Probably not once this holiday.

In the same book in which she found out that concussion victims needed to be asked questions, she also read that when they first going to sleep, they should be observed and woken up regularly to ensure that they were still okay. But what would her parents say if they saw her next to him? He obviously wasn't in any fit state to do anything, but it would probably still be odd for them . . .

She got up from the bed and went to get a book; when she came back she pulled up a chair and just read.

Harry awoke with a yell an hour later and frantically searched the room, his eyes roaming until they fell upon Hermione. He took a deep breath and looked away; tears stung his eyes and he didn't want her to see. He had become something more than weak in the past day and he didn't want that impression to stick; he didn't want her to suspect that he always cried after these dreams, because it was not always, it was only sometimes, only when he saw that blank look in Cedric's eyes . . .

"Harry?" said Hermione gently in Harry's ear.

He was startled at first, because he didn't hear her get up. He couldn't hear anything over the throbbing in his head, the blood rushing to his wounds. She wrapped her arms gingerly around him and engulfed him in a hug. He could no longer hold in the tears threatening to shed, and he didn't know how long he sobbed in her arms. But he knew that he wasn't going to be the one to pull away; when she was with him, all the emotional and physical pain disappeared, like she was some unknown cure to everything. Hermione eventually pulled away and stared into his eyes, giving him a look that reflected his pain, that reflected how bad he felt about everything . . . she pressed her lips to his forehead in a motherly way and left them there for a minute, finally pulling away.

"Are you okay?" she asked him quietly.

He couldn't meet her eyes. Somehow, from her look, he knew that _she_ knew he wasn't telling her something, that he wasn't telling her _everything_, and that did not settle well with him. He was very used to keeping to himself and transacting wasn't easy, however much he trusted Hermione.

"I'm fine," he lied. It was difficult to lie to her though, and when he looked back up something like a light had flickered off in her eyes; she peered at him, silently telling him that whatever he needed to tell her was okay to tell. "I'm not fine," he said finally. It was just as difficult to say that as it was to lie to her. "Those dreams . . . those _dreams," _he said.

"I know, I know . . ." she said. "I'm really sorry that you have to deal with these, I know how awful they must be . . . You-Know-Who is an evil man, Harry . . . an _evil _man."

"No he isn't," he said, causing her to look up in surprise. "_Voldemort_ is an evil man. It's a disgrace to . . . Cedric . . . when you can't even say his killer's name," said Harry, and Hermione was surprised at how bitter his tone was.

"I don't usually do this," he said, wiping his eye. "Cry, I mean . . . I don't know why I am."

"Don't be ashamed to grieve," she said delicately, placing a hand on his arm.

There was silence.

"I don't ever want to go back to sleep. I don't want to see the same scene over and over again; every night . . . it's driving me mad, Hermione, and I don't know what to do."

Hermione didn't know what to do, what to say. Harry lied back slowly onto the pillow again, breathing deeply with his eyes shut. He rejected sleep as it threatened to come. It was obvious from his expression that he was in a lot of pain, emotionally and physically. Why do such horrid things happen to such good, wonderful people?

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"I've put up defensive wards all around the Granger home, like you asked, Albus," said Severus stiffly.

"Thank you, Severus. Have you been to see the boy?" asked Albus politely.

"No. He's in bad shape, isn't he." It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

"Yes, both physically and emotionally . . ." his voice trailed off until he said, "So you also must have heard of our decision, then?"

Severus nodded curtly, his head facing the floor.

"And what are your thoughts?"

"Does the boy know?" he asked, jerking his head upright, completely ignoring Albus do to being lost in thought.

"No, nor does Miss Granger. But Jean and Evan both agree to it and it is obvious that he cannot return to live with the Dursleys," responded Albus.

"What about the protection that Petunia's blood offers to him?"

"There is no way he can return when he gets so neglected. I have put up with it far too long to be lenient."

Severus nodded again. "You don't suppose the Dark Lord can get into their house?"

"I hardly think he knows where the boy is. He doesn't have many Death Eaters yet to use as spies, and as long as the subject is not brought up conversationally, Harry should be fine."

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

Harry was far too tired not to fall asleep, and after fighting to do so for a long time, talking to Hermione, his eyes closed once more. Hermione kept beside him, though, watching him, stroking his hair and being careful to avoid his injuries. It was hard not to fall asleep herself, but she _had _to stay awake for Harry, making sure he would not encounter any more horrible dreams.

After an hour of watching television quietly, she fell back into bed and fell asleep immediately.

Jean and Evan walked in Hermione's room at 7 A.M to tell her the news, and were surprised to find it empty. There was no panic, however: it was clear to both of them that she'd be with her best friend at a time like this. But even that didn't prepare them to see her snuggling against him, fast asleep.

"Are we making a mistake, letting her potential boyfriend stay here for the summers?" asked Evan, watching his wife uncertainly.

"No. I trust Hermione and this boy is good. I can just tell," she shrugged as she shook both of them awake.

Harry woke first and was obviously very startled to see that Hermione's hands were wrapped around him, for he jumped in surprise and looked at Jean and Evan apologetically. This _was _their daughter, and he was just some boy they found close to death on the front lawn of a maniac's house. They smiled, though, and he was reassured. He removed her arm gently and tried to stand up for the first time since he had collapsed. A wave of nausea encompassed him, causing him to clutch the headboard of the bed to prevent from falling over. Both Evan and Jean leapt forward to help him sit back down.

"I suppose I can't do that just yet," he said, breathing deeply with his eyes closed.

They looked at him sympathetically and Hermione woke up, standing up at once to be at Harry's side, as he was toppled over, clutching his stomach with his eyes closed. His breathing was now shallow.

"We wanted to tell you some good news," said Jean, watching their encounter, fighting a smile at how much Hermione obviously cared for the boy.

Harry glanced up, but Hermione did not; it was obvious who needed the good news more.

"Yes?" asked Harry.

"Me and Jean have decided to let you stay here for the summers, Harry," said Evan, observing his expression closely.

Harry stared at them, the hinge of his mouth open, as though waiting to be told "just kidding!"

"R—Really?" he stammered, a smile forming on his lips. "So I don't have to go back to the Dursleys?"

"Not if you don't want to," said Jean.

Harry shook his head at once. "No, no, of course not . . . _thank _you, so much, you won't regret this, _thank you," _he spluttered quickly. He glanced at Hermione, who mirrored his happiness.

"This is great! Thanks mum, thanks dad!"

She ran up and gave each of them hugs. Harry's smile faltered a bit, as he watched the transaction, but thankfully none of them noticed and he was able to smile widely again when Hermione wheeled around. Harry stood up gingerly and walked over to them, saying, "Thank you so much."

"It's our pleasure, Harry; by no means could you return to those awful people . . . would you two like some breakfast, by the way? It's on the table."

Harry nodded only after Hermione did, not wanting to appear greedy. These glorious people . . . they were taking him in, and he didn't want to spoil it one bit. Hermione supported him by grasping his arm and steering him down the hallway. "Thanks," he mumbled to her.

She shook her head, "No problem."

All three of them sat down as Jean passed them plates of toast, eggs, and waffles. Harry's mouth watered instantly when he saw the plate and he accepted it graciously, immediately thanking her. He ate quickly, trying not to appear too ravenous. He didn't need anyone else to comment on his mistreatment from the Dursleys; it just made things worse.

It happened very suddenly. As Harry took his last bite of eggs, a sharp, hot pain shot across the place where Dudley had punched him in the head and he whimpered quietly, clutching the back of his head through closed eyes. Jean and Evan did not notice this, but Hermione did.

He shook his head, silently telling her not to say anything, still scrunching his eyelids together to try to endure the pain. His fork clanged onto the plate as he yelled out loud. He didn't mean to become vocal of his pain; that was the very least thing that he wanted, but it became so intense his eyes started to water and he started to lose consciousness again. Jean and Evan, who were having a conversation seconds before, glanced at Harry, alarmed.

"What's wrong?" asked Evan promptly.

He shook his head, unable to speak.

"Harry, tell us what's wrong!" said Jean, obviously in a state of panic.

"My head . . . it just hurts . . . really . . . badly."

He groaned again; blankness was threatening to engulf him, but he fought to keep his eyes open; Hermione's, Jean's, and Evan's voices were too distant to be distinct, and the last sound he heard was his head hitting the plate below.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

He awoke in a place that was familiar, but it was definitely not the Granger home. This place was Hogwarts; he was in the hospital wing. His head hurt badly, and he felt nauseous and his body shook. What had Dudley done to him?

He felt weak and contaminated and most of all, very, very sick. The way he was feeling was scarily different then he had ever felt before, and he didn't like it at all.

"Harry!" yelled Hermione.

The shrillness of her voice made him cringe.

"What's . . . what's wrong with me?"

"You're okay; you had a cracked skull . . . why didn't you tell me you were having so much pain in your head last night?"

He blushed. "It was on and off . . ." he said.

"Oh, Harry, I'm so glad your okay," she said, and she wrapped him in a hug. He closed his eyes and breathed in. If anything benefitted from this pain, it was the hugs Hermione gave him. She made him feel safe, a feeling he had rarely experienced before.


	3. Chapter 3

**FOR THOSE OF YOU who hate it when I hurt Harry, this is the last time for a long time, okay? It's just necessary to the plot, so bear with me :)**

**EVERY SATURDAY I'm going to post a new chapter. Last Saturday I posted chapter 2, so I think this will work well. Thanks for the reviews! They make me sooo happy. Please keep them up and tell me if once a week sounds good or not. :)**

**Help Is On the Way**

_Chapter 3_

Harry's own thoughts overwhelmed him as he lied on the couch in the sitting room, barely even paying attention to the large television that droned in the background. It must have been nice for Hermione to grow up here, nice for her to have such a lovely family and such a lovely home to go to when she was feeling down. Of course, he wouldn't have it any other way. This just seemed like a Hermione-ish life. He wouldn't trade his life with anybody; no one should have to suffer that pain and ridicule, only if it was fate, and it obviously was for Harry, or he would not have spent so much of his childhood there.

Harry's head still ached, though the pain was distant, like background noise. It was like the television in a loud room . . . nobody paid it any attention, but it was there. It was definitely there.

He felt a sudden surge of guilt for how jealous he felt of Hermione. _She didn't choose this anymore than I chose the Dursleys_, he thought. It was true. You don't get to pick what family you end up in; if you did, the world would be perfect. Except when it ran out of good families.

He sat up gingerly, gazing but not comprehending anything from the television. He rubbed his eye; the other one was still yellow and purple; maybe it was too simple to fix with magic, and that's why they didn't rid him of it. That was probably it.

"Harry?" said Hermione; she rounded the corner and sat beside him on the couch.

"Are you feeling alright? You look . . . upset," she said, and she had obviously chosen her words with care.

He shrugged. "Just thinking." He forced a smile.

"You can tell me anything, Harry, you know that," she said, furrowing her eyebrows.

She had obviously sensed the tension that came with Harry's smile.

Her words were completely untrue. How do you tell someone that you're jealous of their family? It was practically impossible without causing them discomfort, so he just nodded. He didn't even try to smile again; his attempts were too feeble to pass.

"Harry, something is bothering you. Tell me," she prompted more sternly.

He sighed. "I'm fine, alright?"

"Okay . . ."

"I'm going to take a walk," he said, standing up from the couch.

Hermione reached out a hand. "You can't. There could be Death Eaters watching this location this minute. They'll hurt you," she said, and when his expression remained stony, she said, "Harry, I don't want you hurt anymore than you have been. Stay here."

"I really need to get out of the house," he said. He didn't want to make her feel bad, but he was going to take a walk, whether she liked it or not.

"Then I'm coming with you," she said.

"I'm not going to let you get hurt if anything happens. You stay here."

"No."

The words hit Harry hard, and he sat back down. Why did she make everything so difficult for him?

"_Please, _Hermione, stop being so difficult!"

"I'm not the one being so difficult, Harry! It's you! What if you didn't come back? How would I live knowing that my best friend could be either tortured at that moment, or dead?"

"You think I'm weak, don't you?" he exploded, before he could attempt to stop himself. This had also been nagging at him all day. "I should have never told you any of that; it was better kept to myself!"

"Harry, I don't think you're we—"

"—I'll be back later," he barked, and he stormed out the door before she could stop him.

Anger seethed inside him. Was this was the Order and the Weasleys thought of him now? Did they think he was weak, that he was incapable of taking care of himself? Just because a stupid dog bit him and his stupid cousin Dudley had broken his skull did not mean he was weak.

But he felt he wasn't only defending himself; he was reassuring himself.

He knew that he'd have to face Voldemort again; when, he was not sure, but it was definitely going to be soon. If he was as weak as he felt, then he would most likely perish . . . the people that he loved would be in more danger than ever before if he died, and he couldn't have that; weakness was definitely not an option. Definitely not.

He was walking along a road that he was unfamiliar with, but he kept walking all the same. He wanted to get as far away from Hermione and her family as he could, but at the same time, he wanted to go back to them and apologize.

_I hate my life,_ he thought.

It was somewhat true. He hated Voldemort, he hated his parents for dying, he hated Hermione for caring about him, and he hated everyone else for the same reason. He could no longer take the sympathy; it sickened him. To be deprived of civil conversation for so long and then bombarded with sympathy, with questions he did not want to answer, it just kept him going in the same circle he had found himself 4 years ago.

He wished he had gone along with his parents; at least he would be with them, wherever they were. But strangely enough, he did not want to die now. He had too much to worry about and he would not take that way out.

"It's him, it's Potter!" he heard an excited yell, and felt a curse hit his chest.

He fell backwards and Lucius Malfoy and Antonin Dolohov crowded around him. Lucius Malfoy simply flicked his wand and Harry's unconscious body was lifted off the ground. There was a short pause containing Malfoy and Dolohov exchanging elated looks before one of the pair spoke up.

"Why don't we play with him a bit before we give him to the Dark Lord? Show him what you get when you weasel out of everything," suggested Dolohov.

Lucius Malfoy's cold laugh echoed through the deserted park. "Enervate," he said. Harry's eyes flickered open, and panic heaved in his chest. It had been a stupid idea to leave the Granger home. It seemed like he was making a lot of those lately. "_Crucio!" _Lucius Malfoy shrieked.

Harry screamed in pain and writhed on the wet, dewy grass. The pain was insufferable. Every last nerve was on fire; he had to get to water; he had to extinguish himself but he could not . . . the pain was so intense, so much worse than anything he'd ever experience, except the same curse weeks ago. His legs and arms flailed helplessly, desperately trying to escape the curse's excruciatingly painful binds.

"_Stupefy!" _yelled Lupin's voice as he came around the corner of the street.

"_Petrificus Totalus!" _shrieked Tonks.

Both of the Death Eaters' bodies collapsed onto the floor, and Lupin and Tonks bolted towards Harry, who was dazed with pain and looking upwards at them.

"All you alright, Harry?" asked Lupin.

He didn't dare try to heave him off the grass.

"I'm okay," grunted Harry.

Every part of his body felt like it was internally bleeding, and his muscles ached. All he wanted to do was get back to Hermione's house and sleep.

"Do you want to go back to the Grangers'?" asked Tonks, watching him with a mixture of incredulity and sadness.

He nodded weakly. Both Lupin and Tonks grasped each of his hands and turned on the spot. With a loud crack that meant apparition, Harry found himself back in the sitting room. Further inspection told him that Hermione was on the couch, reading.

When she saw them, her expression lit up at once. But her gaze fell on the connection between Tonks, Harry, and Lupin; both of them were supporting Harry upwards, and Harry looked as though he was about to pass out or be sick.

"What did you get yourself into this time?" she asked, almost angrily, as Lupin and Tonks helped Harry lie on the couch next to her.

"Death Eaters," said Tonks. She was careful not to reveal that they had used the Cruciatus Curse on him, but Remus was obviously not as emotionally connected.

"Used the Cruciatus Curse on him . . . their master won't be happy at all that they played with him before taking him to him . . ." he said.

Hermione's book dropped to the floor with a loud _thud! _She looked from Lupin to Tonks incredulously, hoping that they were joking. She glanced sideways at Harry; it would have been a very cruel joke. "They used the Cruciatus Curse on him?"

Tonks nodded. She had an inclination that Hermione had strong feelings for Harry that she did not yet recognize, so she originally wasn't going to tell her that that curse was used on him, but of course, men (Remus!) are stupid and extremely not delicate with emotions. Figures why he kept _her _waiting so long. (A.N: I don't think men are stupid, she's just angry ;)

"Harry?" asked Hermione. Lupin felt uncomfortable at the tone of her voice; he felt like he was intruding on something.

"I'm going to tell your mother and father what has happened," said Remus, and him and Tonks departed down the hallway.

"You were right," mumbled Harry weakly. "There were Death Eaters, and they did want to hurt me."

"Oh Harry," she said, tears filling her eyes.

He sat up and she wrapped her arms around him, rubbing his back slowly and closing her eyes. He pulled away. Her arms were still draped around his neck, and he stared into her eyes, a pained expression on his face.

Hermione leaned in and kissed him full on the lips; she would have done anything to rid him of that look; it hit her like physical pain.

It was wonderful; it felt so perfect, so passionate, so . . . _real. _He ran his fingers through her hair. By no means was it an intense kiss, though; it was slow-paced, but it demolished any pain Harry felt at that moment.

Lupin and Tonks walked in, and immediately both of their eyebrows shot up. Evidently Hermione had heard them, as she broke the kiss and glanced at them in surprise.

She picked up her book awkwardly and hid her face in it. Harry met Remus's eyes, and Remus laughed. The sound relaxed Harry and he began to laugh too, although his throat tingled with pain as he did so.

Tonks was looking as though she was putting forth a valiant effort not to appear pleased with herself. She was right. There _was _something going on between the two of them.

"Well, 'bye Harry, Hermione," said Tonks, and she grasped Lupin's hand that was not waving and spun on the spot. Just as the crack of apparition announced their departure, both Evan and Jean sped in, looking stricken.

"Harry! All you alright?" asked Evan frantically.

Harry nodded. s

"Are you sure? You look pale. They told us what they did to you . . . what the curse is. You should get some rest," said Jean.

"Yeah, I'm okay . . . and I will in a couple minutes."

"Alright, just tell us if you need anything . . ." she said reluctantly. Both Jean and Evan left with a rather awkward spring to their step.

The pain returned as each of his distractions left, and his body ached. But despite that, the realization of what had happened hit him hard. Hermione. His _best friend. _She had kissed him, and he had enjoyed it very much. What did this mean?

"Hermione?" he said tentatively.

She didn't lower her book. "Hmm?" Harry was clever enough to see that her eyes were not moving; she was using it to prevent looking into his eyes. Harry felt a wave of frustration.

"Can you look at me?"

She lowered her book unwillingly and glanced upwards at him, studying him with apprehension. Sighing deeply, she said, "I know I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry."

Her words caught Harry off guard and he took a moment to register what she was saying. When it dawned on him, he furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head hastily. "Don't be sorry . . . at all."

"But Harry, it was stupid of me- we can't be together—"

"I know that," she gave him a confused look, so he added, "I couldn't put you in that kind of harm. But I want to thank you," he said, a smile unfurling on his lips.

She smiled at him. "For what?"

"For making me feel better." With that said, he walked cautiously to the guest room. It would be nice to sleep; he hoped he wouldn't have any more nightmares plaguing his dreams, though. Once inside, he collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep at once.

_He was running quickly, his cloak billowing behind him. His wand was at his side but ready to spring up at any moment, to either deflect or curse. It happened very suddenly. Just as he flew into an abandoned shop, Death Eaters swarmed around it and broke entrance. Thousands of curses were aimed at him but he didn't die. Instead he felt each impact like a bullet; a harmless bullet._

_What killed him was seeing Hermione, dead on the floor next to him. Blood was issuing from her nose and mouth and she was sporting two black eyes. None of that compared to the pale, cold, deathly look about her . . . _

"__ stricken_!" he screamed, and the last thing he heard was the jeers of laughter from the Death Eaters. _

Hermione rushed into the room, looking.

"Another bad dream?" she asked.

"Yes."

No way in hell was he ever going to tell her what he saw. That would only make it more real, and he learned early on that reality was not your friend.

"Would you like to talk about it?" she asked tentatively.

"I can't."

"Was it about the graveyard again?"

He shook his head.

"Was it about your family?"

He shook his head again.

"Was it about my family?"

He nodded slowly. "It was about you."

She'd already guessed most of it, so now he supposed keeping it from her would just be silly. He took a deep breath, trying to rid himself of that image of her lying sprawled on the ground . . . it was horrible. He never wanted to see it again.

"About me?"

"You were dead," he mumbled.

She wrapped her arms around him once more. He felt safe.


	4. Chapter 4

**Help Is On the Way**

_Chapter 4_

It was impossible not to fall asleep when he was bathed in warmth and comfort, and a after a minute of their hug Hermione heard gentle snores issuing from Harry. He was dead asleep. Slowly and gently she laid him back down on the pillows, cuddling next to him with a smile. She didn't care what her parents would think. He was in pain, both emotionally and physically, and she was there to help him. So she would.

She couldn't believe that she had kissed him earlier. It was stupid, and only an act to make him feel better, but she had felt something . . . there was definitely something, and it worried her. Harry had said they couldn't be together because of Voldemort, but if he really, _really _wanted her, that wouldn't have stopped him.

Maybe he didn't enjoy the kiss as much as she did.

Maybe he didn't feel the perfection, the purpose, the longing . . . she did.

But he was her .

Perhaps it was only meant to be a kiss; only a kiss, not anything else. Maybe they were supposed to pretend that it never happened. She sighed deeply. Voldemort somehow always found a way to ruin people's lives. He was an evil man, for more than one reason. Harry's scar proved it.

She leaned over his sleeping form and traced the outline of his lightning bolt scar with her forefinger. This scar ruined his life. It had become much more conspicuous since Voldemort had returned; Hermione wondered if on top of all the other pain he felt, that hurt too.

Harry woke up later to Evan storming into the guest room. Judging by the fidgeting he felt beside him, Hermione had again slept next to him and Evan had awoken her, too. He glanced at her nervously.

"_Hermione Jean Granger _I thought we talked about this! And _you! _I cannot believe you, boy!" Evan shouted.

There was that name. Boy. It reminded him awfully of Uncle Vernon. He cringed.

Evan got closer and Harry felt himself give an involuntary flinch, moving his head away from Evan's hands. Hermione cast him a sideways look; her expression made it obvious that she was wondering what that was about. Evan narrowed his eyes and boomed, "GET OUT OF THIS BED, BOTH OF YOU!"

Harry wobbled in soreness as he followed Mr. Granger's orders. Hermione was at his side and he hastily put distance between them as they waited Evan's verdict.

"I let you into my house and you sleep—you sleep with my daughter?" he thundered.

"It's not like that, dad!" Hermione shouted back, just as fiercely. Evan had taken her aside after she slept next to him the first time, telling her never to do it again. She'd broken his orders, but quite frankly, she didn't care much at the moment.

"Oh yeah? What am I supposed to think when I see my fifteen year old daughter in bed with another boy?"

"I would never betray your trust, sir," said Harry quietly, staring at the floor below.

Evan's body stiffened at how sincere he sounded. He was nothing like the stereotypical teenage boy, he'd known that, but right now he almost _wished _that he was more—well, normal.

"Dad," said Hermione, obviously trying to keep her voice calm, "Harry had a—er—bad dream, and I went to see what was wrong and fell asleep. You know I'd never, ever betray your trust either. I couldn't."

Evan's breaths were taken in with heaves. He looked from Harry to Hermione, teeth and fists unclenching slowly. He let his hands fall to his thighs.

"Right. I don't want to see it happening again if . . . if we want to continue this . . ." he trailed off awkwardly.

"Won't happen again, sir," said Harry and Evan nodded, leaving.

Harry and Hermione stared at each other tensely. "If you hear me have another bad dream, just . . . just stay in your room. I'm sorry for waking you up."

"Harry," she started angrily, but he cut her off.

"Just don't come," said Harry sternly.

She pursed her lips, reminding him of Aunt Petunia. Harry glanced away.

"Why did you flinch?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, but he felt himself burning red.

"When my Dad yelled. You flinched."

"No I didn't," he said quickly.

"There's no use in lying to me, I saw it with my own eyes."

"It's just a reaction."

"It's not a normal reaction," she retorted.

"Just leave me alone, please," he said wearily, making the bed.

Hermione stood there awkwardly, watching him with a mixture of sadness and anger. "You don't trust me, do you?"

He put his hands down to his sides and glared at her furiously. With as much calmness as he could muster, he said, "Of course I do. You just . . . it's just not really your business, is it?" Even he picked up the crossness in his tone.

"I suppose not," she shrugged, "I just care."

He fought not to tell her, but he knew it would only make her more upset; he knew that she'd probably want to talk more about it when he _did _tell her, and the Granger home (even under the circumstances) was like some kind of dream to him; he did not want to contaminate it with mental images of Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley.

As he finished cleaning the room, there was an awkward silence. Hermione looked defiant, like knew she hadn't done anything wrong. Harry was quiet and barely responded to anything she said to him. It was obvious who thought who had messed up.

"I do trust you," said Harry, thinking about the previous conversation after minutes of silence in the sitting room. "I just can't tell you everything, you know? I'm sure you don't tell _me _everything."

She gazed off thoughtfully. After more prolonged silence, Harry cleared his throat.

"What are you thinking about?" said Harry.

She shrugged.

A sudden, sharp pain formed on Harry's back. He cringed and made to rub it away. Unfortunately, this did not go unnoticed by Hermione.

"How bad does it hurt?" she asked.

"My back? Not much. It's just a bit sore," he replied, kneading at the aches on his neck and back.

"I'm talking about the Cruciatus Curse," she said quietly.

Harry froze mid-rub, not expecting this question at all. He faltered a bit on the edge of speech, spluttered something undistinguishable, closed his mouth, then said, "It feels as though . . . " it was agonizing to recover these memories of excruciating pain, "It feels as though every last nerve—every last nerve is set on . . . on fire."

Hermione's face paled as she thought of Harry, crumbling on the ground, screaming . . . she was very glad that she hadn't been there to see it. "What does it feel like now?"

"Sore. I'm just . . . sore," he shook his head dismissively.

She went up behind him and started rubbing his neck. He groaned and sank down as she did this. Hermione swore that she had caught a glimpse of something—some scars on his neck that she had never noticed before. She bent over him, rubbing his back as he laid face-down on the carpet of her sitting room.

As she looked closer, she noted that there _were _indeed scars all along his neck—they looked strangely as though someone had dug their finger nails into his flesh as deep as they could, but that was absurd—_or was it? _She thought darkly.

"Harry?"

"Mmm?" he said.

"What are these—scars on your neck?"

"I er . . . Dudley did it that night."

She sighed. It was more than obvious that he was lying, but she didn't really feel like pressing the matter at a moment like this. Instead, she kept kneading at his back until she grew very tired and lie beside him.

"Thank you," he breathed just as she collapsed next to him.

She shrugged happily. "No problem." There was a bit of silence in which she closed her eyes. "You know, I've been thinking."

He sat up slowly. "About what?"

Opening her eyes, she said frivolously, "This is going to sound impossible." She waved her hands as though it wasn't important.

"I wanna hear it."

"I've been—I've been thinking about becoming an Animagus. I've read some books about it—it looks very difficult, but it would be incredibly . . ." she trailed off, lost in thought.

"That would be quite useful . . ." Harry murmured. "What would you want to turn into?"

"I think being a cat would be my preference," said Hermione.

Harry smiled as he tried to imagine her as a cat.

"What would you be?" she asked.

Harry thought for a moment before responding, "Well . . . probably something where I could run fast. It would be nice to be like my father . . . but what would _you _say if you saw a stag walking around Hogwarts? Nah, I think I'd want to be a dog, like Sirius."

Hermione nodded, agreeing. "It's too bad you can't choose. You might actually be a stag because of your Patronus."

He shrugged his shoulders. Truthfully he wasn't too worried about the animal that he might take the form of, but what unnerved him was the extremely difficult tasks that would result in becoming an Animagus, and although he wanted to do it now that Hermione brought it up, he could easily say no.

"I think you should do it," he said bravely, biting his lip and waiting for her reaction.

Her eyebrows shot up to an appreciable height and stayed there as she said quietly and seriously, "You really think so?"

"I think we should become them together," he added.

She looked positively thrilled, though doubt clouded the happiness that had once struck her eyes. "Do you—do you really think we will be able to manage that? That's really advanced magic . . ." she studied the floor with furrowed eyebrows.

Harry snorted. "You? Obviously you can do it, you should be more worried about my magical capabilities . . . I doubt I'd be able to complete the first spell."

"You doubt yourself too much."

"Well I'm not the best at magic—at least I know instead of pretending I'm some kind of expert."

"You're not serious—you don't think saving the Philosopher's Stone, defeating a huge basilisk, rescuing Sirius, and winning the Triwizard Tournament names you a 'good' wizard?"

He stared at her comically. "Nope."

She shook her head. "You're a great wizard, Harry."

There was silence. Their eyes met for just a split second, but that was all it took for Harry to become lost in Hermione's—he was mesmerized and petrified at the same time, scared at what this could lead to—his body, moving without knowing, inched towards her and they were centimeters apart before she backed away.

His gaze did not leave hers as she stood up, a sorrowful expression filling the capacity of her beautiful face. The smile that Harry hadn't known he was wearing disappeared and he watched her walk out of the room, silently scolding himself for trying to do that after they'd decided it wasn't—or shouldn't—happen. _Especially _after Mr. Granger's reaction.

But something was drawing him to her—he always had been aware of how wonderful she is, but something now changed everything. The kiss changed everything. It put so many new things into perspective. When he looked at Hermione, instead of just registering what she was saying, he really took the time to appreciate how absolutely brilliant she was, and that only made him want her more—something he'd have to keep hidden from now on, for sure.

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**Thanks for the reviews :) I really, really appreciate them. They make me sooo happy, you wouldn't believe. Next Saturday Chapter 5 will be up :)**


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